Imagine Anywhere but Here
by planetofmars
Summary: "Nothin' good is gonna come from all of this," Bobby slurs, stumbling around like a wounded animal. "Mark my words."


**Title:** Imagine Anywhere but Here  
><strong>Rating:<strong> Mature  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Chibs/Juice  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 1874  
><strong>Summary:<strong> "Nothin' good is gonna come from all of this," Bobby slurs, stumbling around like a wounded animal. "Mark my words." 

"C'mon, Juicy-boy," Chibs murmurs, mouth pressed against Juice's ear. This whole thing was a mess, he knows, but he continues to hold the other man as all his fears seep from within him. Chibs had suspected something was amiss when the two of them had shared that brief, but troubling, conversation at the warehouse. The boy's a sobbing mess. Chibs realizes he's grown significantly too close to him, knows that he is too invested, but he won't leave Juice high and dry, not now. Not ever.

Chibs makes a offhanded joke, and Juice flashes a smile, but it's no where near as bright as Chibs knows it can be. Chibs pulls away a bit, gloved hand cradling the boys cheek, warmth fading through the leather. Juice stares at him, eyes wild as something lurks beneath their glossy surface, and damn it, he can't. He wants to, though, really wants to. Juice smiles again, a little bit sad, and Chibs can't deal.

Juice's phone sounds, and the boy mentions something about taking his antibiotics. Chibs leaves him with a heavy heart, but has faith in the boy; too bad juice doesn't have faith in himself. Chibs leaves, and Juice closes the door behind him, checking in. He couldn't let this happen, couldn't allow samcro to die. The tears that fill his eyes are fresh; one imminent problem quelled, and another one about to start.

There's not much he can do, it's out of his hands, and everything feels wrong—out of place. Kozik, man, Kozik was dead, and Miles... Juice shakes his head, Chibs would hold his secret, that much he knew. Everyone is in such bad spirits, and what better solution than alcohol? Juice only wants to forget, at least for tonight, all of his impending troubles.

"Nothin' good is gonna come from all of this," Bobby slurs, stumbling around like a wounded animal. "Mark my words."

Juice stares after the man as he hobbles out of sight. A large hand clasps his shoulder, firm and unmoving. Juice's body tenses, knowing whose hand it is. "Don't listen to him, son," Clay grumbles, eyes somewhere far, far away. Juice merely nods his head, chin tilting downward as he stares at his hands.

Chibs is watching him, he knows, but pretends not to. There's no escaping him, a ever present presence that looms over his conscious. It doesn't make sense, and that puts Juice's thoughts through the fucking ringer because, what was he suppose to do? Juice has enough, clamors to his feet with a inebriated grace only he could muster. "Where you off to?" Tig inquires, sat by himself on a free stool, helping himself to another glass.

"I don't know. I don't feel right, think I'm gonna lie down," he says, throwing that halfhearted grin, and Tig merely nods his head, taking another long gulp.

The boy was good with technology, he was good with weapons, but when it came to other things...sometimes he just needed to be reminded. This wasn't his norm, however, this whole thing had him beaten down, and there had to be more then what he had shared, Chibs knows it. Whether he would push him for more information was the real question, but for now, he would simply check in on him. A little over a hour had past, but he remembers the gnarly, deep laceration around the boys throat. Jax throws him a look, and Chibs nods in agreement, he was trying to do the right thing here, he really was, but for whom? The thought of Juice taking his own life...it was doing his head in, and everything inside screamed at him to hold on.

Juice lays awake in the dark, box springs digging into his back, and he idly wonders how many people had fucked on top of these itchy sheets. The thought grosses him out as much as it morbidly fascinates him. Why hadn't he? What was stopping him? What a stupid question.

A hardy knock comes to the door, and Juice is surprised that the other man even bothers. "Come in," he calls out, catching a small glimpse of Chibs' silhouette in the dim light that fades the further you are down the hall. Chibs closes the door behind him, not bothering to flip on the switch as he sits down on the edge of the bed, hand on Juice's right knee. He doesn't say anything, and that worries Juice, makes him feel like the other man already knows; it kills him. The idea alone kills him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to divulge the whole truth.

The lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow, and Juice realizes as Chibs grabs a hold of his forearm, that there is nothing separating his skin from the other mans touch. "I know there's a'somethin' you can't say, boy," he starts as Juice sits up, and practically begs him not to say anymore. "I won't make ya," he promises, and Juice tries so hard to see what his eyes look like in this moment.

"I won't," he says," but I know there's somethin' a'matter with ya, Juicy-Boy."

Juice is crying before he even realizes it, holding onto Chibs like he's the only thing that matters. "I love you," he says, and he means it. Juice means it more then just friendship, he means it more then just brotherhood; he really fucking loves this man, and it's just one more problem to add to his ever growing list. Juice has his arms around the mid of Chibs' chest, holding onto him as the other man lets him. He feels like the world might just give way underneath him if he lets go, and he needs the other man to stay, if but for a moment or two till he gathers himself.

Chibs makes it clear that he's not going anywhere, and Juice laughs, how pathetic is he? Chibs rests his forehead against Juice's, and suddenly the younger man feels a rush of calm. The need for affection is overwhelming, and in a moment of weakness, Juice presses his mouth against Chibs' in a quick, dry kiss. Panic sets in as Juice's brain catches up with the rest of him, and he pulls back immediately. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, not confident enough to try and make a quirky comment, to downplay his actions.

"I'm sorry," he says, again. Juice attempts to pull away, but Chibs' hand has a firm hold on his shoulder, fingers nearly digging in. The silence terrifies him, literally cause fear to clamor in the pit of his stomach. "Sorry," he whispers, voice low and horrified.

"It won't happen again." Chibs isn't sure what to do, or how to react. The lips that had pressed against his mere seconds ago definitely did not belong to a woman. Chibs knows the difference, has shared a plenty of drunken, brotherly kisses with other members, but that kiss had not been brotherly, and Juice had crossed a unforeseen, highly anticipated line. Chibs doesn't know what to say, but he knows he doesn't have time to waste. "It's a'right," he mutters, fingertips tracing over his bottom lip.

Chibs releases his grip, patting Juice's shoulder. "Love ya, too, Juicy," he says, voice shaking and damn near hallow. He's never been so torn in his life.

Juice grabs a hold of his shoulders, headlights of passing motorcycles illuminating the otherwise dingy room. Juice looks afraid, much like he had earlier, and that bothers Chibs. Resting his forehead against the younger mans, Chibs takes a deep breath, sighing as he places his hands on either side of Juice's face. "It's okay," he says, feeling like a old fool. After a moments hesitation, Chibs presses his mouth against Juice's, offering him comfort and a way out.

Juice tenses up, he knows this isn't right, that this can only cause more trouble, but he can't stop himself. Juice gives in completely, slightly grinning at the tickle of Chibs' beard, that was a first. Chibs tilts his head towards the side, and Juice follows along obediently as the kiss deepens. Chibs' hand is gripping the back of his neck as Juice clutches the hem of his cut. Chibs moves to remove the other mans shirt, and Juice is quick to help move the process along, plain white tee shirt falling soundlessly to the ground beside them.

Chibs isn't sure what he's doing, but this shouldn't come as such a surprise. Juice's skin is warm underneath his hands, hard muscle instead of smooth curves. Chibs is on top of the other man, still fully clothed, grinding against him. Juice groans, low and deep from within his chest, against his ear, and he must be going out of his mind. Juice's knees clutch around his sides, trembling.

Juice reaches a free hand down the front of Chibs' jeans, palming him through the fabric of his briefs. "Fuck," he groans, the first sound Chibs has made since whatever this is started. Juice smirks, just a little, at being able to accomplish that much. The physical stimulation proves too much for his mental footing, orgasm hitting him like a freight train. Chibs isn't too far off, coming through the material of his black boxer briefs.

Juice inhales deeply, dazed and slightly confused. Chibs rolls to his side, moving off of the bed and towards the bathroom. When he returns, he throws Juice a wet washcloth. The younger of the two men is thankful, but can't bring himself to say anything out loud. Juice bites his lip, awkward just isn't the right word to explain what it is he's currently experiencing.

Chibs sits down beside him again as Juice stares absentmindedly at his lap. "Thank you," he finally says, and it's a little strained, but not too much. Juice really was thankful to Chibs, for everything. Chibs nods his head, pulling the other man into a lose hug, telling him that everything would be okay; to heal this. Juice hugs him tight, tells him he'll try.

When all is said and done, Chibs leaves at Juice's urging. The last thing he wanted was for another member to walk in on them in the dark, hugging or otherwise. He keeps his shirt off, tossed to the side as he lays back, head in the crook of his arm. Juice's thoughts wander back to the mattress he's atop of, and laughs. They didn't actually fuck on top of these sheets, and he wonders if they'll ever get the chance.

With everything that's happening, everything that's just happened, he doesn't think so, but it's nice to think about. A safe place to be in his mind where it doesn't end with him betraying his club, his family, or being murdered or incarcerated. Yeah, a safe place to be while the world around him shook, gave way, and then crumbled. A place with only him, Chibs, a pack of smokes, a joint or two, a few beers, and ample time to do whatever. And as dark eyes give into sleep, a twinge of a true smile tug at his lips.


End file.
